bartender!satoru x fem!reader
꩜ summ. satoru’s cocky demeanor is just what you need.
a/n: second fic?? i’m cranking stuff out
warnings: implied smut, heartbroken reader, gojo is a FREAK and has an ego bigger than the sun, 18+ content.
based off of a lyric in this song
i know what girls want… i know what they like.
they wanna stay up, and party all night…
tonight is the night. the night where you forget about him and all that he’s done to you. your revenge, you called it. you even balled out on a fancy ass dress, the ones with the missing back and everything. you’ll worry about your overdrafted account later. all that matters is putting yourself out there and having fun. acting like you aren’t completely sulking. acting like you already moved on.
sitting alone on one of the worn, poorly cushioned stools of the dimly lit bar, you look around for a server. just as you turn your head back, you see him.
you could tell by the little gold rimmed nametag and its iridescent letters glowing in the minimal light of the bar. his snowy white locks tamed, but not seeming like he put too much effort in. clad in a white polo tee, black slacks, some gloves, and a bow tie, he makes his way over to you.
“what can i get you, pretty?” he looks over at you, pulling out a notepad easily like his voice wasn’t laced with the most sugary poison of all mankind.
“i beg your pardon?” you hesitated, eyeing him like he was crazy. pretty. a bartender calling me pretty? this has to be an attempt for tips, you think.
“i know you heard me.” he coyly smiles, his eyes scanning over your body like some sort of horny robot.
“um,” you manage to squeak out, “i’ll take a margarita. mango, please- with tajin on the rim.”
“got it.” he notes, getting started on your drink.
as he makes your drink, you scroll on instagram mindlessly, your mind reeling from your earlier conversation. looking through stories, you stumble upon your exes. well shit. if that’s not some sick attempt at ‘fate,’ you don’t know what is. pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you actually look at the story. is that another girl? and in HIS bed? the same bed you slept in just a couple of days ago?
oh no. absolutely the fuck not.
just as you slam your phone down in rage, satoru is staring back at you, drink in hand. he sets the drink down in front of you, and you hesitantly take the glass in your hands, sipping the cocktail. damn, it’s good. “thank you, it’s really good.” you smile at him, genuinely this time.
“i know my drinks are good. you don’t seem to be, though.” he blatantly points out.
well excuse the fuck out of me.
“excuse me?” you repeat your thought, out loud this time. your brow is practically raised to the sun at this point.
“i said you look like you’re down about something. a cheating ex, i assume?”
“none of your business.” you sip your drink once again, hoping that your retort was the end of this conversation.
“so i’m right, aren’t i?” he cleans up the counter behind the bar, snickering. “i don’t know why he’d cheat on a pretty thing like you. do you got issues or something?” he’d ask like it’s the most casual thing to prod somebody about.
“i beg your motherfucking pardon? i have no issues.”
“i beg your pardon seems to be the saying of the day. at least for you, it is.” he replied with a swagger that made your blood boil.
“just take the compliment, pretty.”
“what’s with you and pretty? you call every girl with a pulse that walks in here pretty?” you’d counter skillfully. gotcha, bastard.
“i don’t think a girl without a pulse can walk into a bar. anywhere for that matter.”
“you’re just a comedian, aren’t you?” your sarcastic tone offers a scoff from him.
“i’d like to think so. but seriously, what’s wrong with you?” satoru seems genuinely concerned, so you decide to talk.
“…my boyfriend. he dumped me.”
“what does he look like?” satoru would question, and without second thought, you pull out your phone and show him your ex’s insta highlights. to which he literally gags.
“you liked.. that?” he’d give the dirtiest look to the screen ever, looking you up and down. “you’re a smoke show, and you settle for him?”
“okay, instead of questioning my poor decision making, how about you make other peoples drinks? are you slacking on the job… satoru?” you cross your arms, making a slight ‘hmm’ noise.
“trust me, they don’t need me.” he does a once over at the practically empty bar, and your eyes do the same.
“you haven’t answered my question, sugar.”
“what’s with you calling strangers pet names?” you murmured, twiddling your thumbs. “…he had a good personality.” you finally give in, and you hear him burst out laughing.
“okay, i get that it’s a bit ironic, but-”
“ironic is an understatement.” he’d snicker, shaking his head. “the dick couldn’t have been that good.”
“and it fucking wasn’t.” you’d admit, mentally stink facing the thought of your sex life with him.
“when i get off of work, how about i help you get off?” cheesy ass pickup lines always seem to work, thought satoru. he flashed his pearly whites before looking at you, noticing your blush.
denying good sex was never a trait of yours, was it?
a/n: here’s some food for yall
*my requests are open! :p*
